“Indeed! You never told me. If I had known that—I was out of sorts last week and I would have sent for you. What will you take?”
“A bock. And you?”
“I will have a bock, too, since you are willing to treat me.”
She had addressed him with the familiar tu, and continued to use it, as if the offer of a drink had tacitly conveyed permission. Then, sitting down opposite each other, they talked for a while. Every now and then she took his hand with the light familiarity of girls whose kisses are for sale, and looking at him with inviting eyes she said:
“Why don’t you come here oftener? I like you very much, sweetheart.”
He was already disgusted with her; he saw how stupid she was, and common, smacking of low life. A woman, he told himself, should appear to us in dreams, or such a glory as may poetize her vulgarity.
Next she asked him:
“You went by the other morning with a handsome fair man, wearing a big beard. Is he your brother?”
“Yes, he is my brother.”
“Awfully good-looking.”